Though we imagine ourselves on the cutting edge of the future, Local Color shows what a creaky old house we live in, haunted by melodramatic ghosts, reverberating with imaginative echoes. There is (in Rappaport’s own description) enough plot to choke a horse, but the real subject is how unimportant actions and events are. Everything that matters happens inside. Local Color has the ironclad logic not of life, but a dream. Everything means something. Everyone is connected to everyone else. Fantasies migrate from one person to another. Characters think each others’ thoughts. They think with other people’s brains, feel with each others’ hearts. For Rappaport, we are all tuning forks vibrating to dog-frequencies we can’t even hear. The song plays us; we dance to its rhythm even when we think we’re conducting the orchestra. At the very moment we imagine ourselves to be most unique and original, we’re revealed to be whistling an old familiar tune.
1.68GB | 1h 59mn | 704×528 | mkv